


Life Under Mettaton TM

by yastaghr



Series: Scribbling is its own Language - Oneshots [8]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Multi, NSFW, Post-Undertale Neutral Route - King Mettaton Ending, Soul Sex, tri-bonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 04:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15788847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yastaghr/pseuds/yastaghr
Summary: Monsters come in a variety of genders and sexes, but for the sake of reproduction most fall into one or more of the following three categories: Carrier, Layer, Breeder. This is a story of one such group of three.





	Life Under Mettaton TM

Sans all but collapsed in the lee of Alphys’ old lab as the Pyrope he’d been stuck talking to for the last twenty minutes  _ finally _ walked away. The black tie he’d been forced to wear lately came off immediately, and the jacket wasn’t far behind. Both were thrown carelessly to the ground beside him, a little heap that represented Life Under Mettaton TM as he knew it. It was just as monochromatic and restrictive as the real thing.

 

The younger skeleton brought his knees up against his chest and huddled. There had been so much happening lately, so many orders to read and a new statue to inspect, that he hadn’t had any time to just...sit. A skeleton needed a certain amount of time to himself to hide - even from his  crush brother. Well...he did. Papyrus didn’t seem to do it, but that just went to show how cool he was. 

 

Sans watched the flows of magma shift slowly, out over the edge. He wondered how hot it got down there. It wasn’t as if Hotland itself wasn’t unbearable to most monsters, but skeletons didn’t seem to have that problem. They just existed. Must be part of being a corpse.

 

Then again, a sample size of two monsters reanimated from the husks of fallen children wasn’t exactly broad. If he’ known anything more about the monster who made them, he might have a clue if this was normal. As it was, all he could tell was that it was a Sans thing as well as a Papyrus thing. Or, you know, something more exclusive.

 

Speaking of things that he wished he knew more about, his SOUL was doing that weird thing again. This was, what, the sixth time? He still had no clue how to describe it. He just felt empty and needy and secretive, and his SOUL oozed for a few days. It always hurt so much, and every time felt a little bit stronger, a little bit worse. It had hit him out of the blue this morning, and all he wanted to do was curl up someplace dark and hide.

 

But gods forbid that King Mettaton’s newest pamphlet be delayed even an hour before it was spread to his fans. No, Sans had to go out ‘right now, darling, it really cannot wait’. Ugh.

 

At least he’d finished that now. He had nearly an hour before their King would be expecting him back. Sans fully intended to use it to the fullest - by sitting here in the shade, out of sight of the main paths, and doing absolutely nothing.

 

It felt like he’d only blinked before everything went to hell. His ribs were throbbing with pain, his cheek was plowed into the dirt. His sockets hung over the edge of the cliff. A spiky heeled boot was digging into his spine through the shirt.

 

“If you were anyone else, darling, I’d have pushed you off the edge just then. Nothing personal, you understand, but a King must have his respect. Luckily for you, your brother has quite the attachment to you, and I can’t stand to look at him when he’s unhappy.”

 

The voice spouting from every radio and TV lent down to whisper in his ear, “So consider this a warning  _ never _ to leave me wai-”

 

The robot sniffed. Sans wondered why he bothered - Alphys had given this body perfect olfactory sensors. Probably for the drama of it.

 

“Ohhh, daaaaarling,” now Mettaton was saccharine sweet. What did he want this time? “You didn’t tell me you were a carrier, dear. you should have said~.”

 

Suddenly, Sans was 7 feet off the ground with his skull bouncing heavily against the star’s back with every stride. 

 

He whimpered, “what are- put me down!”

 

“Why would I do that, darling? You’d only try to hide again, and I just can’t have that, now, can I?”

 

The wicked smile oozed from every word. Sans felt certain he was in for a bad time.

 

* * *

 

Papyrus was working diligently at his paperwork for the day when Mettaton barged in. The star was humming the theme to his third movie, the one Papyrus made a point never to let Sans see. A struggling pair of black pants was flung over his shoulder.

 

“Papy! Look what I found, isn’t it perfect?”

 

Papyrus gave his boyfriend a look, “IT SEEMS YOU HAVE FOUND A PAIR OF WRIGGLING SLACKS COMPLETE WITH ATTACHED SHOES. WHAT, EXACTLY, IS SO PERFECT ABOUT THAT?”

 

Mettaton rolled his visible eye. There was a short period of readjustment, and then a very confused and worried Sans was being dangled in front of him. Papyrus quickly shifted into Brother Mode.

 

“OH, HELLO SANS! WHAT WERE YOU DOING UP THERE?”

 

Sans whimpered, “pap, he-”

 

The king interrupted, “Can’t you smell him? It’s ~lovely~, and so strong, too. He’ll be perfect!”

 

Papyrus, with a look of pointed innocence on his face, sniffed. Then his face fell, “NO.”

 

Mettaton shifted into Puppydog mode, “But Paaapyyyruuuus, he’s-”

 

The elder skeleton stood quickly, lifting his shivering, heated brother out of his boyfriend’s arms. He carried Sans quickly over to the bathroom door and threw him in with utmost care. 

 

“TAKE A SHOWER, BROTHER! YOU NEED IT,” The words were polite, Brotherly, and couched so there was no way Sans could refuse. 

 

Papyrus then slammed the door in the face of his huddled brother and spun to glare at Mettaton.

 

The robot looked peeved, “Papyrus, I don’t think-”

 

The skeleton grabbed one metal arm as he stomped out of the room, “NOT WHERE SANS CAN HEAR.”

 

Their passage to the back porch was a symphony written for chalkboards and billiard balls. 

 

Only when they were finally out in the open, far away from Sans’ hearing - or anyone else’s - did Papyrus speak. In a way. The slap certainly sent a message.

 

Mettaton stared at him, slack jawed, “Papy?”

 

Papyrus slumped to the ground. His skull rolled up to stare at the ceiling, and his hands started fiddling with a loose thread on his scarf absentmindedly.

 

“METTA. I APPRECIATE YOUR...ENTHUSIASM. YOU DO THINGS WITH ONE HUNDRED AND TEN PERCENT OF YOUR BEING, AND IT’S AMAZING. BUT SOMETIMES I WISH YOU WOULD STOP TO THINK  _ BEFORE _ YOU LEAPT INTO THINGS.” 

 

The robot leant against the low wall and crossed his arms. He knew better than to interrupt Papyrus in the middle of a speech.

 

“LIKE WHEN YOU MADE SANS AND I YOUR AGENTS. YES, IT MEANT WE COULD SPEND MORE TIME TOGETHER, BUT MY BROTHER IS ALWAYS AROUND, AND IT IS VERY UNFAIR TO MAKE HIM DO ALL OF THE REAL WORK FOR THE KINGDOM. I HAVE TO ACT THE BROTHER WHENEVER HE COMES IN THE ROOM, AND I KNOW IT’S A NUISANCE. WE CAN’T EVEN SHARE THE SAME BEDROOM. WE USED TO MANAGE AT LEAST PART OF THE NIGHT EVERY FEW DAYS. BUT NOW WE CAN’T, AND WE’RE BOTH SUFFERING FOR IT.”

 

Mettaton nodded stiffly. He didn’t understand how any of this explained Papyrus’ reaction. He’d think it would be the opposite.

 

“WHEN YOU MENTIONED WANTING TO FIND A CARRIER TO COMPLETE OUR TRIAD, OF COURSE I AGREED. NEITHER OF US ARE VERY GROUNDED, AND I KNOW WE BOTH HAVE BEEN WANTING A LITTER FOR SOME TIME.”

 

Mettaton nodded again.

 

“THAT CARRIER CANNOT BE SANS.”

 

Mettaton bristled, “Why not? He’s adorable and loyal to us already. He’s in heat, and such a STRONG one. We  _ both _ know he isn’t really related to you. You don’t have any SOUL fragments in common, and your...bodies weren’t related, either. He-”

 

“METTA,” the edge in his skeleton’s voice made him pause. He looked down into an icy gaze, “HIS BODY WAS 10 YEARS OLD WHEN IT DIED, AND IT STARVED TO DEATH. HE ISN’T BIG ENOUGH OR STRONG ENOUGH TO CARRY A LITTER. AND HIS PELVIC INLET IS TOO SMALL TO TAKE EITHER OF US.”

 

Mettaton opened his mouth. Then he closed it. Then he opened it again and squeaked, “The heat-”

 

Papyrus sighed, “HIS SOUL DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THAT ITS BODY HASN’T GROWN IN TWENTY YEARS. IF WE WERE NORMAL MONSTERS HE’D BE OLD ENOUGH AND DEVELOPED ENOUGH TO MANAGE. INSTEAD, I’VE SPENT THREE YEARS KEEPING ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING THAT MIGHT MAKE HIM WONDER ABOUT SEX AWAY.” 

 

Mettaton noted that away as something to object to later.

 

“IF HE WENT INTO HEAT, OR GODS FORBID SOMEONE ELSE DID NEAR HIM, AND HE ENDED UP BEING TAKEN TO MATE? HE’D TRY TO HANDLE IT. CARRIERS ALWAYS DO, ONLY HE DOESN’T HAVE ANY ROOM FOR SOMEONE TO MESS UP. IF THEY PUSH TOO HARD, HE’LL BREAK AND DUST. IF THEY LAY IN HIM, THE WEIGHT WILL CRUSH HIS LEGS AND HE’LL DUST. IF THEY TRY TO MARK HIM, HE’LL DUST. IF THEY-”

 

“Papyrus.”

 

Two sockets focused on the faceplate inches away.

 

“None of that matters if you use his SOUL.”

 

Brow bones furrowed, “...WHAT...DO YOU MEAN?”

 

Mettaton sighed, and spoke as kindly as he could. This wasn’t the first time they’d run across a gap in Papyrus’ education. The king had learned not to be condescending. Condescending got them nowhere.

 

“Most monster carriers are fleshier monsters, and they use their fleshier bits to reproduce. Fleshy bits are very easy to pleasure, so non-fleshy monsters often mimic that with magic. Between themselves, however, non-fleshy monsters often reproduce solely with their SOULs. Ghosts do it, as do slime monsters and elementals. You can even enjoy it without making a litter.”

 

Papyrus didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, very slowly, he pressed his head into Mettaton’s lap and screamed. The robot patted his head consolingly.

 

“There, there, darling. You didn’t know. Being careful is never a bad thing, and you only wanted to keep him safe. YouOH!”

 

Papyrus hoisted his boyfriend over one shoulder and barrelled into the house. Mettaton, from his perch, decided the position wasn’t nearly as romantic as he’d thought it was. He should probably apologize to Sans about it. Later.

 

* * *

 

Sans honestly had no idea what just happened. One minute he was finally getting a chance to hide from everything for a bit, then there was Mettaton being his usual rude self. Then he was jolting along the path to New Home several feet too high off of the ground while very, very aware that every inch of the robot pressing against him was making him tingle in ways he didn’t understand. Then Papyrus was nearby but acting...weird...and then he was holding him and the tingle got even worse. 

 

Now he was in the bathroom and completely lost. Oh, also his bones were shaking and he couldn’t stop, and that made his ribs hurt, and to top it all off the bloody shower wouldn’t work.

 

Sans really wanted to cry right now. He was shivering, his bones hurt, his SOUL was dripping on the tile, and the shower wouldn’t turn on. It was stupid, but right now he just couldn’t handle it. He was done.

 

Sans yanked open the cupboard and emptied everything out from under the sink. Calcium cream, shampoo, sponges, soap - nothing was safe from his shaking hands. He thought he heard a few of the bottles crack, but that didn’t matter. Papyrus would just buy more. 

 

Once the cupboard was clear, he threw in the towel. Literally. All six of them, actually. And the wash clothes. And the hand towel. Everything in the room that was the least bit soft, he threw in there. One of the big towels got spread on the bottom, and another was wadded up in a sort of U. The smaller towels were balled up inside another big towel, and then the remaining mid-size towels were draped over the entire heap with a bit of overlap. He surveyed it and found it okay.

 

His makeshift nest (even if he wouldn’t call it that) built, Sans burrowed inside and shut the door as much as he could. It was nice and dark inside the cupboard, and all the soft things made it pretty warm. No one could see him. He felt safe and well-hidden for the first time in a while. He started crooning to himself, quietly. The sound was sad, and frustrated, and forlorn. He couldn’t put words around it, but the expressing the feeling that had filled him made everything hurt less. That was nice.

 

He didn’t know how long he’d been doing it when he heard the thumps approaching. Someone was coming, and he was just done with other people making him do things. Sans stopped crooning and shivered in the dark.

 

The thumps ended with a crash not far away. Mettaton sounded annoyed.

 

“Careful on the furnishings, darling. This form isn’t invincible.”

 

“SORRY.”

 

Muffled movements, then confusion, “BROTHER? WHY HAVEN’T YOU STARTED THE SHOWER?”

 

Sans said nothing. Any other day he’d answer his much-loved brother in a heartbeat. Today was not a good day, and right now his instincts were telling him to be quiet so the other monsters didn’t find his nice, soft hiding place and destroy it - again. He wasn’t in a mood to contradict them.

 

“SANS? IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?”

 

More silence, followed by a short period of noise and grunting. The door opened a hair, but no one came in.

 

“Papyrus, wait.”

 

“NO! SANS ALWAYS ANSWERS ME. WHAT IF HE’S HURT?”

 

“He might not even be in there. Where’s his nest?”

 

More silence, and a few sounds that sounded like shuffling. The door creaked open further. Papyrus gasped, but Mettaton just chuckled. Then the door swung closed.

 

“Hello, darling. Are you feeling safe in there? Papyrus is worried about you - please make a noise for his sake? If you do, I promise we won’t come in until you ask.”

 

Sans considered this. He didn’t really want them to know where he was, but that was Papyrus. He’d broken down the door to Sans’ room more times over the years than Sans could count. Usually when he got worried about him. It was why he’d given up on building something like this that was more permanent and just started hiding. It wasn’t the best, but it felt safer than nothing.

 

Sans decided it was worth responding if he could stay hidden. Anyway, Mettaton had promised, and he sounded sincere. If he broke his word, Papyrus would come in, but he’d come in if Sans didn’t make a noise either. Might as well. He trilled sadly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

 

Two voices echoed back, one an encouraging hum, one a worried croon. He trilled again, louder, and they repeated their sounds. It was...nice, hearing them. Nice on a level that he didn’t understand. The same level that the hiding and the crooning came from. 

 

Sans settled himself deeper into the towels and trilled again, less lonely and more for reassurance. They answered, and he heard them settle down just outside the door. He snuggled in, and the repeated echoes of trill and hum lulled him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Mettaton rubbed softly at the narrow bones of Papyrus’ wrist. They were seated against the wall outside the bathroom door, close enough to hear Sans, but far enough that he could come out without feeling crowded. Mettaton was sitting inside Papyrus’ legs, and his sweet, adorable skeleton had his skull resting on Mettaton’s head.

 

“I think he’s fallen asleep, darling.”

 

Papyrus’ voice was as quiet as it could be.

 

“YES. HE HASN’T SLEPT WELL SINCE BEFORE THE HUMAN CAME THROUGH.”

 

Mettaton snuggled in.

 

“Since he stopped trying to nest?”

 

Papyrus gulped and nodded.

 

“JUST BEFORE.”

 

Mettaton smiled to himself.

 

“Mhmn.”

 

“I THOUGHT HIS SOUL WAS ACCEPTING THAT IT WOULDN’T BE NEEDING ONE.”

 

Mettaton shook his head, “Even baby carriers make nests, Papyrus. It feels safe to them. It’s like you and your bone attacks - you don’t feel comfortable if they’re too far away. You couldn’t hurt a fly, but you still need them.”

 

“SORRY.”

 

Mettaton sighed, “Apologize to him, not to me. We can make a day of it - no, a week. You can apologize for invading his nests, and I’ll apologize for overworking him.”

 

“AND FOR KICKING HIS RIBS?”

 

Mettaton winced, “And for kicking his ribs. And for insulting his wardrobe. And you can apologize for insulting his eating habits.”

 

Papyrus scoffed, “NEVER! ALL THAT GREASE CAN’T BE GOOD FOR HIM.”

 

“It’s warm and salty and full of magic. Of course he wants to eat it, especially if his body is as weak as you say it is.”

 

“BUT THEN WHY WON’T HE DRINK MILK?”

 

Mettaton sniffed, “Milk is gross, darling. Everyone knows that.”

 

“NO IT’S NOT???”

 

“Yes it-”

 

Both of them froze as Sans let out a long whine. They held their breath - well, Mettaton did. He still wasn’t sure that Papyrus even needed to breathe. Technically he didn’t either, but he’d never had the choice before he’d met Alphys, so he took every advantage now that he could. Plus it was so dramatic.

 

A hollow thud came from inside the bathroom. Two more followed with a whimper. Fabric rustled along with a whine, and more thumps signaled Sans trying to get comfortable. Mettaton felt Papyrus’ body tighten. He squeezed his arm.

 

“Don’t, Papy. He’ll come out if he wants to, or he’ll ask us in.”

 

A harder thud followed this, and then a tumbling crash. Bones scrabbled against the tile floor while Sans whined. Papyrus crooned back.

 

Sans crawled out of the bathroom with a towel still tangled in his legs. His heat was clearly overtaking him. Sweat beaded over his skull, and blue magic fizzed at every joint. His eye lights were fuzzy, not wide yet but barely focusing. Mettaton held Papyrus down.

 

“Hello Sans,” The small skull spun to face him, “Do you want to come join us?”

 

Sans hesitated, then just sat down and reached out imploringly.

 

“paps.”

 

Mettaton let Papyrus get up this time. Watching his boyfriend cuddle Sans so carefully made his SOUL warm. He really did care, the poor dear, but the monsters who’d raised them had done a horrible job at teaching him how. His instincts had been telling him to guard his fragile carrier, but absolutely none of the courtesies had been observed. 

 

This wasn’t the first time Mettaton had had to explain things. In fact, the first time went a lot worse. Papyrus had eventually forgiven him for the punch. It had taken a bit longer for Mettaton to forgive him for attacking his hair stylist.

 

The king just hoped Sans could recover enough trust to start building nests again. They really were very important, and Mettaton had an entire box of old blankets he very much wanted out of his closet.

 

* * *

 

Sans nuzzled into his brother’s ribcage urgently. The nap had been really nice and all, but his SOUL was telling him it really wanted some company right now. He didn’t know what kind of company, but his brother always knew how to take care of him, right? His brother was the best. So clearly he needed his brother. 

 

His SOUL hadn’t objected, but now it was telling him to get Papyrus to touch him even more than he was. The tingling touch, which was overwhelming thank you so very much, apparently wasn’t enough for it. But Sans had no clue what would be, so he was trying to increase surface area on basic principles. 

 

Papyrus didn’t seem to be cooperating. He kept pulling Sans away from his chest and trying to pet him. It was frustrating, and Sans whined.

 

“CALM DOWN, SANS. I NEED YOU TO LAY STILL FOR ME.”

 

Sans really did try to obey, but it was hard. Everything was shivering and he felt so lonely. How could he hold still when it wasn’t working?

 

Two new hands, cold and somehow comforting, started undoing his shirt buttons. He wriggled when they touched his bare bones, and Mettaton tsked, his face suddenly very close. 

 

“I know it hurts, darling, but we can’t do anything until we get this shirt off. You do want us to help, right?”

 

Sans gulped and nodded. Mettaton smiled.

 

“Thank you, darling.”

 

The robot hummed as he finished undoing the buttons. Finally, the last came free and he spread the fabric open gently. He stared down at Sans’ chest, and the almost hungry look in his eyes made Sans squirm.

 

“EASY, BROTHER. I’VE GOT YOU.”

 

Sans stilled. Mettaton shuddered, his eyes opening with that same hunger mixed with purpose and cheekiness. He snaked his hands under Sans’ ribcage and cupped his SOUL. It was almost lost underneath the slime, but hundreds of little pockmarks and a spiderweb of cracks covered it. He hated the thing. His body jerked a bit from the unfiltered triumph his SOUL let out when Mettaton pressed a kiss to it. His pupils were stars. His thumbs stroked down the outer curves of it. The slick ooze made it each motion easy. It felt weird, but at the same time amazing.

 

Mettaton licked his lips, tracing circles on both bells of the heart. The motion was making Sans’ dizzy. It felt like he was tumbling in freefall, and the few bits of his brain left that did actual thinking were quickly departing. His breath was racing.

 

“Such wonderful noises, darling. I wish I could bottle them up and sell them - they’d make us a fortune. And such a gorgeous little SOUL. Your entrance area is so broad it looks hardly convex at all.”

 

The thumbs slid into the dip between bells. They rubbed at the edges, stretching the passage to the interior ever so slightly, coating it with that extra goop all the while. 

 

“See here, Papy? Carriers have a slit here that stretches open. It’s very elastic and extremely sensitive~”

 

Something wet and very flexible lapped between those fingers. Sans gasped. Miniscule bumps massaged the outer flesh while, deep inside where nothing had ever gone before, the questing tip started to explore. Sans had to fight hard not to buck into the motions. They felt so good!

 

“I SEE. AND HERE?” Papyrus’ phalanges pinched the left bell. 

 

Sans jerked, overwhelmed. After one final swipe the tongue left him.

 

“Oh, yes~! He tightened up wonderfully when you did that, Papyrus,” Papyrus squeezed again. 

 

Sans moaned. The squeeze turned into a rhythmic massage that filled Sans’ mind with fluff. 

 

“See how he’s breathing? You want to keep him excited like this. It will bleed off the heat faster that way.”

 

Both bells of his heart were now being squeezed. First the left one, then the right, then left, then right, over and over and over and over. His head was all pink and orange fluff. He really liked this pink and orange fluff.

 

“Alright, he looks stretched enough by now. Layers like me go first, since otherwise your magic would have nothing to seed. Can you hold him for a moment? Good.”

 

The fingers on his walls pulled out and he whined. An extra firm squeeze settled him down though. The orange fluff wasn’t leaving him.

 

“DON’T LAY TOO MANY INSIDE HIM. I’D RATHER HE BE SAFE THAN HAVE A LARGE LITTER. EVEN ONE-”

 

“Don’t worry, Pappy darling. I’ll be careful.”

 

A tendril-like appendage spiraled its way into his passage. As it snaked deeper, it grew broader, continuing all the way up through his SOUL to the tip. There it anchored. Velcro-like hooks attached to his tip.

 

Then the first bump came. It wasn’t all that big, maybe a few centimeters across, but in his fuzzed-out state Sans thought it was enormous. He struggled feebly in the soothing grip.

 

“METTA, HE-”

 

“Yes, darling, I know. Sans, dear, don’t worry please. This won’t hurt you.”

 

He settled down when the bump nestled into the already irritated tip. His brain went white. It felt so good, so good, and yet weird at the same time. The next bump was pushing past his walls before he knew it, and that too had him shivering.

 

“See, Papyrus? He’s fine. I’ve heard it can be uncomfortable the first time, or at least unsettling. But you know how good an egg can feel.”

 

“YES...I SUPPOSE IT WAS ODD THE FIRST TIME.”

 

Another two eggs nestled within him. Sans whited out again, longer this time.

 

“You see? Look at his eye lights. So fuzzy. Yours do that too, although not to that extent, usually. Then again, you don’t go into heat.”

 

Another egg, then a sixth. It felt like his SOUL was straining to hold them.

 

“SHOULD HIS SOUL BE BULGING LIKE THAT?”

 

“Yes, darling. That’s perfectly healthy, although I think I’ll stop after the next one. I have more, but he is new to this. Ready your SOUL, please. You should go in as quickly as possible for the best effect.”

 

One final egg settled into his SOUL, and then the Velcro-like attachment was pulling out. The slick, smooth removal felt amazing as the intruding skin rubbed him hard with every egg it passed. Sans’ eyes squeezed shut.

 

Familiar phalanges brushed his eyelids. 

 

“NO, SANS. LET US SEE YOUR EYES.” Sans opened them after enough time for him to figure out how to do so. “THAT'S IT. THANK YOU BROTHER.”

 

Mettaton’s face, more out of focus than a microscope looking at the sun, hovered above him. He tried to focus on it, only for another, thicker shaft to prod its way into his SOUL. He sucked in a breath to whimper. Then it was in, and once more his whole being was a bunch of fluff. 

 

“Good boy, darling. Just let the feeling take over. I promise this is going to feel good,” Mettaton's voice shifted tone, “Papy dear, go ahead and start moving. He's ready for you.”

 

The shaft within him started moving. Slowly. Very slowly. Excruciatingly slowly. So slowly it was making him itch. 

 

“Papyrus.”

 

The slow slide outward halted. “YES?”

 

“You need to go faster, sugar skull. You're driving him nuts.”

 

“BUT-”

 

“Papyrus. He's whining. Listen to him.”

 

In the sudden silence, even Sans could hear the whining. It was a quiet, constant drone that tugged at the SOUL.

 

“OH.” 

 

A sudden thrust made Sans gasp. The steady rhythm that followed, while not that much faster than before, had him feeling worlds better. That happy fluff once again took over. He was starting to love that fluff.

 

“Keep it up, gorgeous. We've got a lot of heat to bleed off.”

 

The thrusts grew just a bit stronger, not faster, but more… Forceful. Sans felt his excess magic pool in his mouth and twist into a stubby little tongue. As short as it was, lolling even a micrometer of it outside his mouth was difficult. But it managed nonetheless. 

 

“AH- SANS, YOU LOOK- YOU LOOK- YOU LOOK SO PRETTY LIKE THIS. I LOVE YOUR CUTE LITTLE TONGUE POKING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH. I THINK YOUR EYES ARE STUNNING WHEN THEY ARE SO WIDE LIKE THAT. YOUR SOUL FEELS PERFECT AROUND ME, AND METTATON’S EGGS- HIS EH- OH, THIS IS WONDERFUL.”

 

Sans agreed. He still wasn't a hundred percent sure he knew what was happening, but whatever this was made his mind feel more relaxed than it had in months. He loved it.

 

The soul-rocking thrusts continued to fill him with fluff. He was starting to feel nuances in it that he hadn’t before; most of the orange fluff was tangerine, but bits of it shaded towards red and there were even speckles of indigo and blue. Then the background to the fluff came into focus. Green and purple shaded the grey. The whole thing was a kaleidoscope of colors. It fascinated him. 

 

“He should be coming out of it soon. His slick is starting to thin out. I’m genuinely surprised at how many times he’s managed to come.”

 

Just as Sans was beginning to feel comfortable with this new landscape of swirling color the old one started to fade in. At first, it was just a shadow, the darkness of his sockets shading the edges of color. Then there were hints of metal and bone swirling in the mix. Then shapes. Four slender columns meeting at a double stack of hearts, tip to curves. Last of all to return was sanity, all in one go.

 

Sanity didn't stick around long, though. It vanishes in the face of Papyrus's smile a few inches from his. It was the softest smile Sans had ever seen. Papyrus's eyes were soft, too- soft and warm and looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing Pap had ever seen. He'd wanted to see that expression for a long time. It was amazing.

 

Then Papyrus blinked, and, unlike what Sans had expected, the expression didn't go away. No, it intensified. Sans had to be dreaming, there was no way this was-

 

Clack. The sound of bone hitting bone resounded in his head, filling up the empty space left behind by sanity and fluff alike. He couldn't process it. He couldn't process the kiss either. If he didn't think about how nice Papyrus's magic felt on his, didn't think about how much he'd wanted to feel it, didn’t think ab-

 

“STOP THAT, SANS. JUST LET ME KISS YOU WITHOUT OVERTHINKING IT, PLEASE.”

 

Sans let himself relax into the kiss until-

 

“So, he's back then?”

 

Sans yanked his head back so fast he hit it on the wooden floor before Papyrus's hand could reach back and cushion him. The magical outline of a green bone slipped into him. It healed the 0.1hp damage before it could really sink in. 

 

“uh,” Sans looked over Papyrus's shoulder to see Mettaton, the King, grinning with what was apparently indulgence back at him, “...i'm missing something here.”

 

The King coughed and stared at Papyrus, who was also very pointedly not meeting his stare. Sans looked between the two of them. What were they hiding from him?

 

“ALRIGHT, SO I MAYBE MIGHT HAVE SORTA TOLD YOU A TEENY TINY MINISCULE LITTLE BIT OF A LIE,” Sans’ head swiveled back to his brother. Papyrus looked...contrite. As if he really didn't want to be saying what he was saying and yet, at the same time, was relieved he could finally say it. “I DO KNOW WHAT IT MEANS WHEN YOUR SOUL OOZES. IT’S CALLED A HEAT. IT HAPPENS ONCE A YEAR, AND IT’S YOUR SOUL’S WAY OF SIGNALING IT IS R- RR- READY TO M-MATE.”

 

Sans’ only response was to tilt his head. He’d heard the dogs talking about heats before. He’d never connected their descriptions to his weird thing, but it made sense. He wasn’t quite sure why Papyrus had lied to him about that. It seemed pretty harmless. Pap was probably embarrassed to talk about it if the stutter was anything to go by. 

 

“I NEED TO APOLOGIZE, BROTHER. FOR LYING TO YOU ABOUT YOUR HEATS AND FOR TEARING APART YOUR NESTS. YOU USED TO MAKE THEM ALL THE TIME, BUT I KEPT DESTROYING THEM. I SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT. I PROMISE I WON’T DESTROY THEM AGAIN.”

He...wasn’t going to destroy them anymore? That didn’t seem right. Sans asked, “i thought you said they were dangerous…?”

 

Papyrus shook his head. “I WAS...MISINFORMED. BECAUSE YOU ARE A CARRIER YOU NEED A SAFE, SOFT, UNTOUCHABLE PLACE TO RETREAT TO. IT’S INSTINCT. THE SAME KIND OF INSTINCT THAT MAKES ME, AS A BREEDER, WANT TO CARRY MY BONE ATTACKS EVERYWHERE. WHICH I DO. AND METTATON’S INSTINCT AS A LAYER IS TO BE EXTREMELY CONSCIOUS OF HIS APPEARANCE.”

 

Sans asked in a daze, “um...carrier? breeder?”

 

Mettaton answered this time, almost reciting a description that both Sans and Papyrus payed attention to, “Monsters come in a variety of genders and sexes, but for the sake of reproduction most fall into one or more of the following categories: Carrier, Layer, Breeder. In order for a child to be conceived, at least one of each must be involved. This may be anywhere from one to three monsters, although more is possible. Three is most common and is typically referred to as a triad.” 

 

He rubbed his hand across Sans’ cheek. It made his magic tingle like static electricity. As he continued petting Sans he said, “The carrier is the monster who bears the child or children while they grow to term. Carriers typically have large magical reserves and lower physical stats. They are often concerned deeply in the lives of their loved ones. That would be you, darling.”

 

Then he gestured broadly to himself and continued, “I’m a layer. The layer is the monster who supplies the unfertilized eggs, or bases, from which any children will grow. Layers typically have high defense and lower attack. They are the most parental of the three types and take great pleasure in teaching and caring for young.”

 

Mettaton kissed and caressed Papyrus’ cheek, which, instead of making Sans feel jealous or hurt, made him feel oddly pleased. His brother was the best, after all. Who wouldn’t admire him? 

 

Mettaton drew back and finished, “Papyrus is a wonderful breeder. The breeder is the monster who supplies the soul seeds which bring life and personality to growing monsters. Breeders typically have high attack and health, but lower defense. They are very active, strong monsters who are quick to act and to defend.”

 

“Do you have any questions, Sans?” the King asked.

 

“yeah,” Sans replied, “no offence intended, but why are you here?”

 

Mettaton chuckled. Papyrus glared at him answered instead. He said, “METTATON AND I HAVE BEEN DATING FOR A WHILE. I SHOULD ALSO APOLOGIZE FOR HIDING THAT FROM YOU. HE HELPS ME LEARN THE THINGS THAT  _ THOSE MEN _ SHOULD HAVE TAUGHT US. TODAY HE HELPED ME BRING YOU THROUGH YOUR HEAT.”

 

Sans blinked at his brother and asked, “you’ve never helped me before. it always takes forever. is it over?”

 

“It seems so, adorable,” Mettaton replied. 

 

Sans spluttered at the pet name, “a-adorable? you’re talking about papyrus, right?”

 

Mettaton smiled fondly at him, “No, darling, I meant you. You’ve been hiding a cute little skeleton under all those clothes. I think he’s gorgeous.”

 

Sans turned his head to hide under Papyrus’, only to see an identical expression on his face. It was embarrassing. He reached back to grab his hoodie and failed to find it. He hadn’t been able to wear it in months. 

 

Suddenly a nice, fluffy afghan blanket was piled up on top of Papyrus and him. He snatched it and pulled it around him. It smelled amazing. This wasn’t the scent the palace laundry used. What was this?

 

“Keep the blanket. I’ve been keeping it in my inventory for the past few years to give to the carrier Papyrus and I found to complete our triad. You can use it to build your new nest. That room on just the other side of the- of our bedroom is specifically for that. The staff know better than to intrude on it. Papyrus and I will not either, except if you invite us in. It’s yours.”

 

“pretty bold of you to assume i’d agree when i didn’t even know what it meant.”

 

When Sans managed to maneuver his skull out of the blanket, both the other monsters were wearing frowns and exchanging looks. He recognized the expression on his brother. It meant he had done something big and failed to consider that other monsters might not agree. He’d last seen it when Papyrus decided to raise the sink in their house so high only he could use it. 

 

He sighed, “what did you do?”

 

Mettaton very sheepishly pulled something from its hiding place behind his back and held it out to Sans. It was a soul. His soul, in fact, although he’d never seen it looking so bulbous. Cracked, yes, but not bulbous. What had they done, stuffed it with rocks? Then he remembered some things from what Mettaton had said and his eye lights guttered out.

 

**“no,”** Both of them flinched,  **“you didn’t. papyrus?”** His brother wouldn’t look at him. 

 

“why didn’t you ask me?” Sans whispered. His anger had faded, as it always did. There was no point in being angry. He was never the one in control. He’d just have to deal with this until...until things changed. But he still needed to know.

 

Mettaton jumped in with, “You were in heat! Carriers have a hard time thinking even at a basic level when they- you- are in heat.”

 

Sans gave the King a disapproving stare, “So you implanted what I’m guessing to be fertilized eggs into a monster that was incapable of giving proper consent?”

 

Mettaton argued hotly, “We’ve been wanting to have a litter for months now. You should-”

 

“SANS,” Papyrus interrupted the other, meeting Sans’ stare with a blank look of his own, “YOU DON’T HAVE TO KEEP THEM. THEY WON’T BEGIN TO DEVELOP SOULS FOR A 10 WEEKS. IF YOU WANT TO WAIT, OR DON’T W-WANT US, YOU CAN SAY NO.”

 

Sans closed his empty sockets, opening them again with tired eye lights instead, “nah. sounds like too much effort for me. i’m willing to put up with you two if you’ll put up with me. and you want the babies, right bro?”

 

Papyrus didn’t change his expression, “IT’S YOUR CHOICE, SANS.”

 

“i know,” Sans said, “and i’m willing to give it a try on two conditions.”

 

“What’s that, darling?” Mettaton cooed.

 

“you need to find someone else to help with running the kingdom, and i want my hoodie back.”

 

Mettaton nodded, “Of course.”

 

Papyrus was less stoical. He nuzzled up into Sans’ skull and dove into another kiss.


End file.
